“I just think we need to wait until after the election before making any sweeping changes.”

  I was sitting in a plush chair across from the mayor in his office. He’d invited me here specifically to try and undermine my declaration of change at the press conference. The office itself was ostentatious. A heavy wooden desk and matching bookshelf that was filled with tomes meant for decoration and not actual intellectual pursuit. Henry Jackson, the mayor himself, was a portly man who had become increasingly grey both in hair and pallor as the position wore on him. He’s weak; he’s always been too pathetic to do what’s necessary, I thought, stewing in my own rage. But that’s okay. Their reckoning is coming and they don’t even realize it.

  “Don,” he continued, leaning forward, a disgusting smile spreading across his face. Between that and his ‘be-reasonable’ tone, I felt my stomach churn. “Our credibility is hurting with Bion back on the street and the media has been harping on that event with Smash Gal for ages.” He gestured towards the window as he deflected blame for his own cowardice. “We don’t want to lean into those conversations right now.” When I didn’t capitulate to his desires immediately , he continued. “Let’s just keep doing what we’re doing. It’s working fine. And when you win your election,” he laughed nervously before continuing. “Then we can revisit these changes you’re looking to do.”

  “No,” I started simply, standing up from the overstuffed chair. I enjoyed his sputtering face. His weak chin wagging for a response. “Our current methods are not ‘working fine’.” I crossed the room and stared at the window, my back to the man. He’d invited me to his office, thinking this would give him power over me. Remind me of his station. The fucking moron. I waited until he started to speak before cutting him off again. “Andrew Wan’s in the hospital, barely having survived the attack from Esvanir. Our current methods,” I put as much disdain in the words as I could. “Have no way of dealing with a threat like Esvanir. Like Smash Gal or Thunderblast.”

  “Esvanir, sure,” the mayor agreed. I glanced over my shoulder. He’d risen as well, but not fully. He was caught in a half crouch above his chair under my gaze, his eyes resting on his desk. “But Miss Stewart and Mister Bien-Amie are helping us. And they have tons of fans. If we come down too harshly on them, that’ll only rally the people against us.”

  “As I figured,” I accused without heat. He’s so predictable. I turned to face him fully. “This has nothing to do with my electability, but your own.” The man stood a little straighter and opened his mouth to say something. I didn’t give him the chance. “The public do support those vigilantes, but that will change. Especially if we make it clear what a danger they are.” I adopted my most contrite, deferential tone. “Besides, I’ve spoken with the police commissioner and the union rep. They both support my policy change. Vigilantes make police work more dangerous and the only thing to be done about it is to stop them.” I waited a moment or two before continuing. “And I’m sure you don’t want to look soft on crime. Especially compared to your opponent.”

  “I have always been a friend to the police,” Henry countered, a canned passion growing in his voice. The same kind he saved for the cameras and speeches. “And crime is down under our policies. We’ve done a good job rising to the challenges of a new world, a world of super-powered people.”

  “Of course you have, Henry,” I placated the man, holding up a hand. “But we can do more. Metas can’t be allowed to do whatever they want; to degenerate the social order.” He frowned at my words, but didn’t respond right away. “And when my policy change works and we curb the violence and vigilantism in Avalare, both of us will benefit.”

  “I just don’t know, Don,” the mayor admitted, shaking his jowls. “These advocacy groups and such will rally against it.”

  “We both know that these people will do whatever they need to get ahead. They will cheat, steal, and kill to get their way. It’s who they are.” This did little to assuage Jackson’s doubts, but I continued anyway. “Look at how Esvanir has been acting lately. Almost killing a citizen in broad daylight. Blowing buildings up all over the country. Full on meta terrorism.”

  “I agree that we need to stop Esvanir!” Henry exclaimed. Then leaned over his desk, crushing papers under meaty hands. “I just . . .” He trailed off.

  “Henry,” I soothed. “We have everything we need to take on Esvanir and his acolytes. It’s just about using them more effectively. I’m meeting with some police IT people later. They think they have a plan. We know they’re willing to cheat to get what they want. I’m just evening the playing field.”

  Metas always cheat; it’s in their nature. I learned that lesson when I was kid.

  Summer break had just started and I had discovered that I was special. I could make things see through. Mom and dad weren’t around to see. They’d gone on vacation and had left me behind.

  “We had an agreement, son,” my father had said. “You let that Jap beat you in the science fair. The world isn’t kind to us white guys anymore. You’ll have to work twice as hard to make sure your spot isn’t given to some kid fresh off the boat.”

  So, I wasn’t allowed to go to Europe with my parents this year. But that was okay. I went last year and it was fine, but it was all just old crap. Instead of going this year, I had to study it. Dad said it was important to know what our ancestors did, how they built western civilization, as I was going to inherit one day. So, I was sitting there, my head resting on the little desk. I just wanted to go out with my friends. I couldn’t get my eyes to focus on the page anymore. It was a struggle not to just fall asleep.

  As I tried to refocus, I pointed at a word. And it became really blurry. I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes, but it didn’t get any clearer. I turned the page and froze. The page was transparent. And not just thin. This was an expensive textbook my father had gotten me. But I could see my hand straight through the page. What is happening? I thought. And just as I did, the page became opaque again. I frowned at the book, then focused on something else. There was a little statue my mom had given to me as a gift. I pointed at it. Nothing happened. I shook my head. Must’ve been my imagination, I thought.

  But as I tried to redouble my efforts to focus. I found my mind drifting back to the statue. I stretched out my hands and slowly it shifted. It started out fully solid, then drifted to translucent. In the end, it reminded me of my see-through GameBoy. Sweat started to bead on my palms and down my cheeks; my heart started beating faster and faster. I struggled to breathe until my hand dropped to the desk. The statue immediately went back to normal.

  I had to tell my friends! Percy, Colton, and Heath were kids from school and they also weren’t on vacation yet. I jumped up from the desk and bolted down the stairs. My nanny, Misses Hernandez, caught me and asked, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

  I frowned and shrugged. She stared me down and I shifted uncomfortably. “I just wanted to go out. Be with a couple of friends.” I shouldn’t have to explain myself to the help.

  Her harsh expression softened a little and she pursed her lips. “Have you finished your studies?”

  “Yeah,” I lied, but I couldn’t keep the truth off my face.

  “Then we can check it together.” This was her compromise. Her offer of seeming reasonableness. “You can go after we check it.”

  “If you don’t let me go, I’ll call immigration!” I shouted. She froze at that, mouth agape. I didn’t understand what that meant at the time, but my dad had screamed it at her one time and it really scared her. She just stood there, not saying anything, mouth moving soundlessly. It worked just like it did for dad. Awesome! I grinned and charged out the door. She didn’t make an effort to stop me.

  It took me an hour to find them. They were off at the local park. I was drenched in sweat. It was a hot day and there was no wind at all. When I finally found them, I called out, breathless. “Hey, guys!”

  “Great!” Percy said. “It’s Donald. What’s going on?”

  “I figured out something really cool!” I exclaimed, smiling brightly.

  “Something cool?” Colton asked coolly. He was always too cool, though. “You?”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to match his cool tone. “Check it out!” I looked around for something to use the ability on. There’s not much here. I frowned, then looked down at my feet.

  “I knew it,” Heath exclaimed. “Like a dork like you could ever show anything cool.”

  “Can too!” I called out. “Watch!” I reached over and gripped his shirt, staring hard at it.

  “What are you doing, you freak!?” He demanded, trying to pull away. After a moment or two, his shirt started to become see-through.

  “Whoa,” Percy mumbled, taking a step closer. He put his hand on the other side of the shirt and flexed his fingers. “Weird/ How are you able to do that?”

  “Dunno,” I admitted. “I was studying and it just kind of happened.”

  “Weird,” the boy muttered.

  “Okay, enough!” Heath shouted, pulling out of my grip. The boys were all impressed. I grinned brightly.

  “Can you do that to anything?” Percy asked, skeptically.

  “Yeah!” I said immediately, then shrugged. “I think so.”

  “I have an idea,” the boy said. Half an hour later we were all crowded around a locked trunk in his dad’s shed. It was so hot and miserable inside. Percy pushed me forward. “Alright. Do the thing.”

  I frowned at the box in front of me and then back at the boys. They were covered in sweat and were glaring at me. I swallowed and turned back to the trunk. Holding out my hand, I pushed my desire towards it. Willing it to become transparent. Nothing happened for a long moment or first.

  “What’s the hold up?” Percy demanded. Sweat started to trickle down my back; my heart started pounding. My palms were slick. After another moment or two, a small window opened on top of the trunk. My arms started to shake under the strain, but I mentally wrenched it a little wider. Percy pushed past me and glanced down at him. “Holy crap! It worked. Heath, Colt, check it out.”

  The other boys gathered around the trunk, peering down. I squeezed between them to take a look myself. Inside, there were stacks of magazines. Playboy, Juggs, Hustler. All of them had women with big boobs staring up at us with pouty expressions.

  “Whoa,” Heath whispered. I felt a grin spread across my face.

  “Awesome,” Colton muttered.

  “Can’t you do anymore?” Percy asked, impatiently. “I’ve seen the covers before. But never what’s inside.” I frowned and reached out, trying to sharpen my mind towards the magazines, and for a moment the pages of one of them started to become translucent, but the window I’d created in the trunk shrank. I tried to hold both, but after a moment or two, I fell back, lightheaded. It’d become so hot inside the crowded shed.

  “Figures. You’d rather look at Heath than some actual jugs,” Colt accused. Percy snorted. Heath glared at me. I shifted uncomfortably.

  “It’s not like that!” I stood up a little shakily. “It’s just too hot in here!”

  “It is really frickin’ hot in here,” Percy agreed. The other two murmured their agreement.

  “I can do something about that,” Colton added, eagerly.

  “Oh yeah?” Heath asked, shoving him. “What could a loser like you do?”

  “This!” Colton held out a hand. Nothing happened at first, but after a moment or two, wind started to shift inside the shed. At first it was just a little bit, barely able to flutter the papers and tarps in the shed. After another moment, the wind was blowing dust and debris around a lot. And it was cold. Like sticking your hand in a freezer. Soon, it was chilly in the shed and we could see our breath. The windows were foggy.

  “Whoa!” Heath exclaimed again. Much more than he had with anything I’d done.

  “Cool,” Percy said nonchalantly. He’s always so cool, I thought.

  “Yeah,” Colton agreed, a wide smile spreading across my face. Heath slapped him on the back. I scowled at the boys.

  “Whatever,” I muttered. Percy turned his cool eyes on me and I shrunk back a little. “It’s okay.”

  “Way cooler than just trying to see Heath naked, gay boy!” Colton shot back.

  “I wasn’t!” I exclaimed.

  “Sure seemed that way,” Percy added. I glared at him and he just smirked down at me. Colton grinned smugly from behind him. I glared at them both. My ability was way better than his. Way more useful! I should be the cool one! But stupid Colton had to steal my chance!

  I ran back home after that. There was nothing I could do. They’d already decided who was better. And all because that creep had a power. He didn’t deserve it, I told myself.

  I burst through the door, tears in my eyes, stomping up the stairs and threw myself on my bed. After a time, the maid came in and knocked on my door.

  “Mister Don?” She asked from the door. She was hard to understand through her accent.

  “What do you want?” I asked, frowning.

  “I-I wanted to check on you,” she stuttered, letting herself into my room. She held a tray with chocolate milk on it. I didn’t stop her from setting it down. I knew I could’ve, but I wanted the chocolate milk. “Were the boys cruel to you?”

  “I . . .” I thought about what I wanted to say, then shook my head. Mom always said that the help were meant to be seen but not heard. I frowned at her. “No, nothing like that. You can go.” She started to leave. I tried to smile up at her. “I won’t call Immigration on you. This time.”

  She frowned at me and I shrank down a little. I just said I wouldn’t. She should be grateful.

  That was the first time I understood that these foul-blooded creatures would take anything they wanted. Do whatever they could to undermine me. Undermine my greatness. And my own foul taint could be used to draw attention to their sickness. Their evils. I would reveal that the Emperor has no clothes. That all of their claims of nobility and great things are nothing but cheap lies. And we can stop the replacement of our people. Claim our rightful place as stewards of the world.

  I made my way through the halls of the Police Administrative Building, which was near the mayor’s office. I hit the 4 button. The doors opened up to a set of cubicles and a bunch of people with a series of screens; people boredly watched them, rewinding footage and then watching it again, to see if anything could be gleaned. There were crime scenes on some of the cameras, glimpses of acts of violence, of the degeneration of our city. I walked past that towards the administrative offices, which were behind the rooms that housed hundreds of server racks, where footage was collected and streamed. A smile spread across my face as I made my way into the office of the little IT manager, a chubby woman with thick, horn-rimmed glasses. She looked up at me.

  “Ah, yes, Mister District Attorney,” she said, putting on a painted smile. Carol Levey, Lead Investigator of the Urban Surveillance Center. This special department of the police took up the entire fourth floor of the Police Administrative Building. “The Chief said you’d be visiting us.”

  “I thought I’d get more familiar with the RTCIC,” I explained casually. Avalare’s Real Time Crime & Information Center. For the last ten years, the police had been gathering data from every ATM camera, every traffic light sensor, cameras on buses and trains, in schools, everywhere. If it was in the city, there was a good chance the police had access to it.

  “It is a great system,” she said, genuine pride infecting her smile for the first time. I returned it humorlessly. “What did you want to know?”

  “I have some understanding of it, but I was wondering if you could show it to me.” She hadn’t offered me a seat or anything to drink. She’ll learn her place. To respect me. I want to know exactly what kind of data we’re using.”

  “I’m sure I could have one of my people show you the ropes, but surely you have more important things to do,” she tried to deflect.

  “Nonsense,”I insisted, stepping around her desk and gesturing to her computer. She had Facebook open on one of her browsers. “You have access to it on your machine. Just log in here and give me a quick tour. Then we can discuss the expansion to your program I’m expecting.”

  There were more advanced systems on the way. The Feds are expanding into AI facial recognition, trained in Gaza and the rest of the Middle East. Soon, it would be expanded into the States and multiple sources would work in perfect concert to create profiles. The Jews sure know how to cultivate power.

  But they were cowards, unwilling to use this data to do what was necessary. They are a weak people, I thought. But their framework? That I could use. With it, we’ll be able to track any metas, any dissidents and punish them.

  “E-expansion?” She asked, her jowls quivering. That got her attention, I noted.

  “Of course. I think this is the future of policing,” I replied, putting on my best smile. She watched me for a moment or two longer before nodding.

  “It absolutely is,” she agreed eagerly. “Since we started RTCIC, our clear rates have gone up by 11%. 15% for violent crime.”

  “And just think what we could do with more funding,” I said, leaning in over her desk. “If we put you all at the forefront, the cutting edge of technology, we catch criminals in the act. Miami’s claiming 66%. I think we could get there too.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “66%?” Carol frowned at that, considering the implications. Putting a woman in charge of this was a mistake. They don’t have the ambition necessary to really cultivate the change necessary. I’d known this for years.

  The first woman to ever not realize my greatness, the power of my ambition was Amanda. I’d fallen hard for her in freshman year and did everything I could to get her attention. She was a perfect woman. And I knew every inch of her.

  I’d seen it. I found out that my locker in the gym shared a wall with the girl’s locker room. And she was a cheerleader. And in the years since I first found out about God’s gift to me, I had cultivated it and refined it. I could create a spot just large enough for my eye to see through. I could do this on several surfaces. And the thought of seeing my cheerleading Aphrodite changing was what gave me the will to develop these powers. She was gorgeous with blonde hair and a tiny waist. A bust and butt to put Pam Anderson to shame. And I saw all of it.

  It wasn’t until senior year that I actually worked up the courage to talk to her. But by then, I knew everything about her. I knew her bra size, 38DD; I knew what kind of underwear she liked, flowery thongs; I knew her favorite perfume, Angel by Thierry Mugler. I’d used my ability to read her diary.

  She was dating some neanderthal jock, but she wasn’t sure if she’d actually marry him. He was a creep and only wanted her for her body. But I was different. I knew that she would make a fantastic housewife. A perfect mother to my children. The foundation for the revolution to come. Degenerates and liberals were already rotting society even then, but with her beauty and my brains, our children could crush them. I knew it.

  She was sitting at a lunch table, surrounded by other cheerleaders. I approached her, my heart racing. The other girls were laughing at something she just said. I scowled at them. At the monopoly of attention they had. A bunch of lesser copies of her perfection. Women not worthy to even breathe the same air as her. I cleared my throat and they all looked up at me. The vapid women around her all tittered as they watched me. “A-Amanda, c-can I ask you something?”

  “Oh,” she said, her lips twisting slightly. “I . . .”

  “Please. Just give me a chance!” I pleaded. She glanced around at the girls around her and then back up at me, shrugging. It’s obvious that they are bad influences, I thought. She’d listen to me if I were alone. I reached out for her hand and tugged her up from the seat she was sitting in. The other girls howled with laughter. I felt my face heat up as I pulled her away from the lunch table. She stumbled after me and I got her to the hall before she pulled her hand away. Proof! I knew she liked me.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” She demanded. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and looked up sheepishly into her beautiful brown eyes.

  “I-I just wanted to get you away from them,” I stammered. I know I’m better than the other guys she’s been with. She’s gotta know it too. I took a deep breath. “So, we could talk. You . . . We . . . Would you go to prom with me?”

  “Uh-” she hedged before shaking her head. “I’m dating Trey.”

  “I know you don’t love him,” I said, taking a step forward. “I’m better than he is.”

  “What are you talking about!?” She shrieked. I glanced around A few more people were listening. I felt my face heat up.

  “Keep your voice down!” I replied in a hoarse whisper. “I’m just saying . . . I would treat you better. You . . . deserve better. He doesn’t have a future. And I know you haven’t done anything with him yet.” I mumbled. “And it’s not like you have a problem doing that k-kind of thing.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are!?” She screamed, putting her finger in your face. “You don’t know anything about what I do!”

  “Y-yeah, I do.” She froze, her eyes going wide.

  “M-my diary . . . You stole it!” She accused me, backing away. “I knew you were a freak, always following me around. Sarah said she saw you sniffing my chair, you freak!”

  “N-no! It’s not like that,” I cried out, closing the distance between us. “I-I love you! I could give you the life you deserve. O-our children . . .”

  She gagged. She literally, physically gagged at the thought. I glared at her. I’ll show her that I’m a real man. One who can take what he wants. I took another step forward. She turned and started to run away. I reached for her but she eluded me. Tears stung my eyes.

  It wasn’t long before I was dragged in front of the principal. Amanda wasn’t there, but I knew what it was about. She wouldn’t so much as look at me in class. The principal, an older man with greying hair, sat me down roughly in the chair.

  “Don,” the pointless bureaucrat began. He gave me his most serious, stern look. It was hard not to roll my eyes. As though this fucking pencil pusher could ever actually do anything to me. He continued. “I got a report that you were harassing Amanda Barnes.”

  “I was not!” I sat forward, unable to contain my voice. “I just asked her to prom! I swear!”

  “She said it went a lot further than that,” the principal replied, face screwed up in concentration.

  “No, I just said she’d be better with me than that neanderthal Trey.” I shook my head.

  “Well, I understand you’re at an age, Don.” He nodded in his best attempt to look sagely and wise. “And I know boys will be boys. But you can’t go around just insisting a girl go out with you.” He shrugged, a soft smile spreading across his face. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But keep your nose clean, okay?”

  I nodded, trying to school my face, keeping it emotionless. But inside I was raging. That slut! That fucking little whore! How dare she try to ruin my life! My hatred for her only grew larger the more I stewed on it. If only she realized how much better I am than all of those losers! What would they be without all of their muscles? Nothing. I was dismissed and walked back to the class. I’ll prove I’m better than all of them. Smarter. More capable. I’m going places.

  My ambitions were cemented that day. Amanda Barnes would regret rejecting me. All of the girls in college would regret not recognizing that I’m their better. I started it immediately. Finals came up and I made sure I had the highest grade in all of my classes. Not with studying. That was beneath me. But in my backpack, I kept all of my test answers. Any time I was confused by something or couldn’t remember, I’d just peek inside my bag, without opening it.

  Carol looked up at me. Like all women, she couldn’t compete with my mind and had no idea what I was planning. She wouldn’t even begin to comprehend it. Not for years. She cut through my musings, “Well, just let me bring it up.”

  I made my way behind her and she shifted to cover her keyboard as she changed tabs and started typing in her username on the web portal for RTCIC. I rolled my eyes and directed my focus onto her shoulder. It immediately became transparent and I watched her type in her password.

  Password

  After a beat or two, 30 live feeds popped up on her screen, with a sidebar for hundreds more.

  “So, this is the basic program,” Levey began to explain half-heartedly, pointing at the screen. “All of the feeds record for about two hours before being deleted unless there is a sound that is over 120 decibels. Then 10 minutes before and after the sound is recorded and saved permanently to be processed by one of our analysts.”

  “How many people are watching the feeds at any given time?” I asked.

  “Oh, no one,” the woman scoffed, as though it were a stupid question. Anger spread out into my stomach. As though this cow has the right to laugh at me. She continued, “We don’t have the manpower for that. And AI will do a better job at that kind of thing anyway.”

  “That makes sense,” I admitted begrudgingly. “Can you track specific individuals across the city?”

  “If we have a mugshot or a good picture of them, absolutely.” She said with a shrug. “Got anyone in mind?” My mind went through all of the possibilities before landing on one in particular. A thorn in my side.

  “Harold Bien-Amie,” I replied, trying to keep the venom out of my tone. The arrogance of that meta flaunting his ability. If he knew what was good for him, he’d have crawled into a hole after that idiot Smash Gal saved his sorry skin. But both of them will know their place, soon enough.

  “Big fan of Thunderblast, huh? My kid loves him,” Carol responded absently. I grit my teeth in a rictus grin. While I did so, Carol brought up the DMV database and searched for his name. After getting his picture, she searched for it in RTCIC. It took a few minutes of searching but finally, something came up. From a feed from a McDonald’s kiosk, I could see his arrogant face. Behind him I could see Cannoneer Jenny. She’d been a hero’s advocate and meta sympathizer for years. Filthy blood traitor. “Looks like he was at the McDonald’s on 25th and Elm forty-five minutes ago. Oh, he’s with the Cannoneer. That’s cute.”

  “We have access to fast food kiosks?” I asked, my painful smile growing slowly more genuine.

  “Yeah, it was a part of the contract expansion two years ago.” She looked back and smiled up at me. “So, what expansions were you thinking about?”

  “We’ll hammer out the details fully later,” I muttered noncommittally. She frowned and I reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Word is the Fed has bought access to some of EnGin AI tech to find fraud and abuse in the government. That information will trickle down and we will be able to create full profiles. Criminals won’t escape our net ever again.” She nodded solemnly at that. I walked around her desk. “Anyway. Thank you for your time. I have another few meetings today.” I turned back to her. “And Carol?” She looked up at me, eyes too large with her ridiculous glasses. “Thanks for being a part of the team. You’re going to go places.”

  It was hard to suppress the sardonic smile on my face until I was back in the hall. That diversity hire will be one of the first cuts, I promised myself. Diversity has always gone too far. Women belong in the home; immigrants belong in their countries; metas belong in the ground. We will correct these mistakes. By any means necessary. We have to. If we don’t, they’ll steal everything from us. Even more than they already have.

  They were always stealing everything. I was the valedictorian of my class in law school. I’d made sure of it. Every quiz, every test, every essay, I made sure to pass. If I thought there was even a chance I wouldn’t get a perfect score, I’d bring in an answer key. They were never hard to find or to make a copy of. It was how I got through the LSATS. It was how I got through law school. I was always the top of the class.

  But I was still passed over at every opportunity. There was always a woman or an immigrant who got my internships, my jobs, anything I wanted or needed was always taken from me and given to someone lesser in the name of fairness. An erosion of merit.

  I was the best in my law school. No one could compete with my intellect. And though people tried to deny my right to be there. There were plenty who would’ve loved to see my seat there given to someone fresh off the boat from southeast Asia or anywhere else. But I had clawed my way through college and all of the affirmative action. And I did it without loans or scholarships. Merely by my own merit. And I was on track to get an internship at one of the top law firms in the country.

  I was sitting in their lobby, wearing my finest suit, freshly bought from an Italian tailor. Other than the secretary, there was only one other person in the room. Andrew Cohen. He was wearing a gaudy suit and reading some foreign rag. I knew him. We’d been neck and neck in the same classes for the last four years. An Israeli. Though, anyone would be able to tell that much with one look at his face.

  He’d already taken the title of valedictorian from me, after he’d stolen my teacher’s aid position. He’d claimed that I’d discriminated against his kind for their religious beliefs. Which I hadn’t. I’d merely stated the plain truth about Israelis. One of the students couldn’t handle it and Cohen was given the position to satisfy the snowflakes. But I’d already taken the redpill on that long ago. Everyone else’s comfort was more important than being correct.

  A slick-looking lawyer in his mid-forties burst through the door, causing the cowardly Jew to jump. The lawyer looked between the two of us, brandishing a smile like a weapon.

  “Cohen, Lawin?” We both nodded, standing. He crossed the room and offered a hand. I got to it first and gave a firm handshake. He nodded back. “Harvey Ross,” he introduced himself, before turning on a heel and starting down a hallway. “Normally, we do interviews separately, but I’m pressed for time and don’t see the point. We’re sharks. Gotta see who the better hunter is. No better way to do that than to have you compete live.”

  I found myself grinning at that. We’d both graduated summa cum laude, but there was no way I was going to lose to someone like him. This is my country; my world. Ross took us to a conference room with a long, marble table. I ran my fingers over it, watching my reflection. The lawyer took a seat on the other side of the table and both Cohen and I sat down across from him. “So, let’s start with the basics. You both have 4.0 GPAs, you both have excellent records, you both did exceedingly well at a bunch of things that don’t matter in the real world. Useful, perhaps, in school and for impressing normal people. But I’m not normal. So, impress me.”

  I was just opening my mouth when Cohen spoke in slurred English. “I can speak any language.”

  I sat there, stunned, desperately trying to understand this boast. Trying to understand such an obvious lie. I tore my eyes from the man’s face to gauge Ross. He looked just as skeptical as I felt. Good. He’s not falling for any obvious lies. Cohen continued. “It is a power I have. I am a Perfect Polygot.” Even through his accent, I could hear the emphasis he put on these words. “I can understand and speak any spoken or written tongue.”

  “That’s quite the claim,” Ross countered, doubt evident in his tone. “Do you have any proof?”

  “Of course,” the bastard insisted, perfectly sure of himself. “Bring up any text. I will translate it.”

  Ross brought out his smartphone, one of the first of its kind, and searched for something before sliding the phone over to Cohen. The man adjusted his glasses and spoke something aloud. I couldn’t parse it and frowned. After a moment, he repeated what he’d just read in English. It was some poem.I noted that a lot of the doubt had faded from Ross’ face.

  “That doesn’t prove anything!” I exclaimed. “How do we even know what he read was accurate? And even if it was, that proves that he could speak whatever language that was.”

  “It was French,” Cohen slurred. I growled at him. He wore a smug smirk as he met my gaze.

  “French isn’t that uncommon,” Ross replied, thoughtfully. Then he said something in another language. It might’ve been Spanish or Italian. I couldn’t tell. I grit my teeth. Without so much as blinking, Cohen replied in the same language. Ross brought in several other people for the test and everyone agreed that he could speak and translate whatever was being said.

  “Who cares!?” I demanded after the fourth language test. “This doesn’t have anything to do with being a good lawyer. My grades were better. I know the law better.”

  “You’re trying to expand into Asia, right?” Cohen said to Ross, not even bothering to acknowledge me. “My abilities would be invaluable for that campaign.”

  “He has a point, Don,” Ross agreed, eyes meeting mine. “What about you? Like I said, GPAs only take you so far in the real world. Do you have any special abilities we could use?” I opened my mouth, about to reveal my own ability, but I paused. No, I can’t do that. I’ve got to hide my powers, I thought. There were enough questions as to how I got a nearly perfect score on the LSATS. I grit my teeth. And it’s not as flashy as Perfect Polyglot. I tried to think, pushing away the insecurities of a seven year old welling up in my chest. I glared at Cohen who didn’t so much as blink. Outside of my academic success and my skills, there was just my heritage. And that wouldn’t carry me far in this world. I deserve it more than Cohen, but I can’t make these morons understand that.

  I lost that internship to both a foreigner and a meta. But I landed on my feet. Nothing can keep a good man down. I took a position in the Avalare District Attorney's office and worked my way to Assistant District Attorney soon enough. Which gave me opportunities I may not have otherwise had.

  I drove out to the compound. I’d laid a lot of groundwork for the day. It’s close, I thought. I’m going to harken in the end to all of this degeneracy. The gate opened slowly and I took my spot just next to the admin building. There were a bunch of men running drills with guns; marching, running; preparing themselves for the inevitable fight. Perfect specimens of the white race, I considered. We will be ready. All of the failures of the past have been leading up to our grand success.

  There’d been several failed movements in the past. The Civil War, the KKK, George Lincoln Rockwell’s American Nazi movement had all failed. And the movements normally collapsed, but the remnants were always there to be collected and codified. The degenerates and Jews can’t stop us, no matter how hard they try. They may have all of the political power, but they don’t have our will; our righteous cause.

  And the previous movements didn’t have me. I will sculpt our future. I made my way into my office and opened my laptop. After a few moments, Stacy poked her head through the door. “Lawin, Marcelli called. He wants to know what the current plans are.”

  I sighed. Marcelli’s such a pain in the ass. But he’d provided a lot of money and had access to some weapons it would’ve been hard to get our hands on otherwise. I glanced up at Stacy. She was a severe woman, thin and with a perpetual scowl on her face. She might’ve been pretty, with her long black tresses and longer legs, but her beauty was ruined by her unladylike demeanor. Feminism’s poison has even gotten its claws into us. Nothing that can’t be corrected.

  I hadn’t always had such a clear vision of what needed to be done. I’d known about the problem for years. How minorities and metas had stolen and rotted away all of the beauty of our country. All at the behest of them. But I hadn’t known what to do about it. Not until I met him.

  During my third year in the DA’s office, I’d started to move up in the world. I was trying cases on my own and I was good at it. I had an impeccable record. I was excellent at figuring out which cases I could win and which needed to be pled down. And I’d found that there was some pressure I could place on certain types of crimes. Push up the sentence. Recommend the maximum time. Any violent crimes were easy enough. And metas were naturally violent. And so were the blacks and hispanics. Gangbangers and drug dealers, liars and whores. But throwing away some of the trash of society wouldn’t ever solve the problem. More needed to be done.

  A case came across my desk. Theodore Leopold Gotha had been charged with conspiracy to commit terrorism. A serious charge, I thought as I looked through the file. The details of the case were pretty simple. Leo, as he liked to be called, had been pulled over by an Officer Nguyen for a tail light violation. Bodycam footage showed the became belligerent with the officer and was taken from his car. Nguyen took the opportunity to search the car, where he found an itinerary for the governor over the course of the next few days. In the car was a veritable arsenal.

  The evidence was flimsy. Circumstantial at best, I thought. But with his known associations, it’s not hard to see why anyone would assume what he was doing. Leo had arrests going back fifteen years for assault and battery, all of which were claimed to be racially motivated. He was somewhat well-known for running armed counter-protests against the race riots that were so common these days. The media vilified a man trying to keep the peace from the degenerates trying to burn down the city. Some of his social media posts had gone somewhat viral, quotes from the Turner Diaries, calls to end the welfare state, to end miscegenation, immigration and our replacement. He’s too overt, too obvious, I thought at the time. But he’s not wrong.

  Trying the man was almost certainly an automatic loss on my part. Figures that a supposed model minority would force me to betray one of my own. Disgusting. I’d have to meet with him and offer a plea deal. Not to mention the fact that he shouldn’t be imprisoned for protecting his brethren, his country. I made my way down to the interrogation room where they'd been holding him and observed him for a few minutes behind the two way mirror. He was a strong man, well-muscled with strong, proud, nordic features, and a deep tan. He had the hands of a man who worked for a living. Golden brown hair and gray eyes. He comes from good stock.

  He was obviously agitated, his jaw working as he stared blankly ahead. The man had declined a lawyer, just opting not to talk. He'd been in holding for a day and a half or so. Not strictly legal, but not an uncommon practice either. Especially when he declined a lawyer. I waited for another moment or two before making my way into the room.

  He didn't look up when I stepped into the room, opting to sit there perfectly still, except for the muscle in his jaw working. It was an impressive show, even if his bravado would all be for nought.

  “Good morning, Mister Gotha. I'm Don Lawin, an attorney for the district.” I sat down and leaned over the table, whispering just loud enough for him to hear me, but for the mics in the room to miss. “And a big fan of your work.” That got his attention. For the first time, he took me in, sizing me up and down.

  “You tie and suit types don't normally understand what we're doing,” he muttered, leaning over the table too. He was handcuffed to it. “Like to play word games.”

  “I'd like to think that we seek the same end from two different points of view,” I replied with a shrug. He narrowed his eyes at me.I held up a hand. “Until we can get rid of the undesirables, the state can work to corral them and direct them away from polite society.”

  He didn't say anything for a long moment, seeming to consider my words. “And yet you let an animal like that hold a gun. Push citizens around.”

  I nodded, sympathetic. “It's not my policy and there's a lot of work to be done.”

  “And what are you doing to support the cause?” he asked. That gave me pause.

  “Maintaining law and order,” I said, but even as I did, the words soured in my mouth.

  “That's not enough.” He'd stolen the words from my mind. Unconsciously, I nodded again. “We are on the brink of a full war with the forces they set out against us.” He didn't need to tell me who they were. I knew all too well. “First they dilute our blood, then they tear away at our heritage, and destroy our history.”

  “And then they engineer new creatures to accelerate their agenda further,” I said, cold fury building in my chest. His eyes widened at that and he waited for me to continue. “Do you think it's a coincidence, the sudden arrival of aliens; of mutants?” I wasn't the first person to connect the threat of so-called metahumans to the cabal that was pushing so eagerly for our destruction. Even my own aberration was a sign of how deep their plans had gone. And it was no surprise that I'd lost out to one of theirs, Cohen, for a top spot. A place of real influence. They didn't control everything. Just far too much. But God had gifted me with their aberration to make me aware of the curse, and to weaponize it against them.

  “I think we have a lot to talk about,” Leo replied after a moment.

  Ultimately, I got Leo off with a little probation.Which he skirted. But we kept in touch. His plans ran deeply too and I found out that he was more than he seemed. I knew he had associates and they protested together, but as it turns out, he was a part of the Christian Defense Force, a group dedicated to the protection of our future. They'd chosen the name to borrow credibility from the Israel Defense Force.

  I joined up and went through their basic training. I didn't exactly keep up with it after passing through it, relying on my natural genetic talents to carry me. I brought other skills to the group. Whenever one of them was arrested, I would work to make the charges disappear. I would protect them. I also helped them avoid some of the pitfalls that befell other organizations. Making sure they paid just enough of their taxes to stay under the radar, that their protests were always legal and they always had a plausible defense.

  And they gave me community. Like-minded people, people I didn't have to hide my power level with. And they gave me direction for our purpose. Taught me how to defend myself. Taught me what to expect when the Day finally came.

  That's also where I met Stacy. She was Leo's woman and completely off-limits. But that didn't stop some of the men from trying. And I saw what Leo did to anyone who tried. She wasn't an active part of the organization at the time. And it wasn't Curatio yet. She mostly just supplied us with snacks and morale.

  Until Leo died; until he was murdered. One of the protests went wrong. Really wrong. He and his brought some guns to try and keep the degenerates and animals at bay as they tried to burn down everything because one of their little bastards was killed. But the fucking fools fought back. A scuffle broke out and shots were fired. The degenerates claim that it was one of the Defense members that did it, but they lie like they breathe.

  The situation quickly devolved into the chaos they want from there. Leo was cornered by a low-level gangbanger. He tried to defend himself against his assailant, but the fucker had a power. The criminal's street name was Backfire. He'd gotten it because of his aberrant ability. He could redirect combustion, including gunfire. Leo fired on him and the rot on society turned it back on him. The gun exploded and shrapnel tore through the leader of the Christian Defense Force. It took him three days to die.

  Backfire, real name Eric Mathers, was tried as an adult at sixteen years old. Meta crimes in Avalare almost always go to trial and almost always are tried under a terrorist statute. The entire thing was caught on video and the jury was rightfully terrified of this freak's unnatural abilities. And I pushed the case as far as I could, arguing for the death penalty. He got life with no option for parole, which was a small comfort to any of us in the CDF.

  But this gave us an opportunity. My arguments about metas being another symptom of the degeneration of society were finally taken more seriously. And I argued they needed to be a part of the focus of what we were fighting against. That if we didn't take them out first, they'd take us out, just like they had Leo. And that's what got Stacy involved. She recognized that she'd been too soft on them.

  And over the next few years, together, we transformed the CDF into the Curatio. Stacy became my right hand. Despite her gender, she was a capable enough lieutenant. And the men saw her as an extension of Leo's goals. Her backing me gave me legitimacy.

  I stared at Stacy, who had resisted my advances. She was like all women, not smart enough to realize what was just in front of her. But she was still useful. And she may realize her true cause. She and Leo never had kids, meaning our children wouldn't have to compete with anyone. But for now, I would use whatever God provided me with.

  I grabbed a satellite phone we had specifically to have more untraceable interactions and dialed the number I had memorized a few months back. After a moment or two, a gruff, grating voice answered. “Mister Lawin. It is good to hear from you.”

  “Marcelli,” I replied in a bored tone. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was just calling to let you know that I'll be stateside soon.” There was a glee in the man's voice. “I can't wait to tour your facilities. See what you have to offer.”

  “Just be careful. I can't protect you if you get caught,” I mumbled.

  “Don't worry about that, Lawin,” he reassured me calmly. “Our plans are too important. We're going to do great things together.”

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